The Walking Dead- A newcomer
by Wingsoffire2102
Summary: Starts off at the beginning of season 3 where Rick finds a newcomer(s) New relationships form, new rivalries break out, and walkers are more dangerous than ever. Who will live? Who will die?
1. Chapter 1

_This takes place at the beginning of season 3- (Haven't seen it yet)_

 _Rick's POV_

I sat against the house on the porch that early morning, my son's head on my lap as he dreamed. We slept there through the night after Shane died- well at least Carl did. I hadn't been able to sleep since I stabbed Shane, or since Carl had shot his walker. I hadn't even been able to stop crying. Carl cried himself to sleep that night as I held him in my arms. He cried and cried, telling me he was sorry even though he had nothing to be sorry for. I kept telling myself that I had no choice, that sooner or later, Shane would've killed everyone I loved and everyone I cared for. I told myself that I hadn't lost a friend that night. I had lost an enemy... But I was lying. I had lost Shane long ago. I had lost him as my friend and as my brother. He was never my enemy, just a shell of a man who used to be my best friend.

Carl began to wake up as the sun rose past the trees and onto the white panelled porch. He groaned and lifted himself up, sitting beside me as he recalled what happened the night before. He said nothing though. He just sat next to me and watched the farm become day again.

Daryl came out of the house first, his crossbow tightly wound to his back as he looked over at us. He'd known what happened, but he didn't blame us. Thena again, how could he? He'd been the one to track the boy and see what Shane had really done. Still, he too said nothing, and simply walked down the stairs and began heading towards the barn.

"Come on," I told Carl.

"Let's go see your mother."

He shook his head violently, still afraid to stand. The poor kid was scared, his first kill too much to bear- especially since it was a man he once trusted.

"You ok son?" I asked, patting his head and kissing him lightly. He put my old hat on and stood, nodding firmly and gaining the courage to head into that house.

Lori wasn't angry either. No one really was. The only problem was no one really knew what to say either. We all knew Shane had his problems, but none of us wanted him dead.

Andrea and Glenn were the first to leave, going out to watch out for any morning walkers as Maggie and Beth went out to get some eggs from the coops. Lori made breakfast for Carl while T- Dog and Hershel went out to take care of the cattle.

Me? I went to the RV, climbing up it to see if Andrea needed any help watching out for the walkers.

"Hey," She said coldly. I sat next to her, but she didn't seem to want to talk.

"Where'd Daryl go?" I asked anyways.

"The Woods. Where else?" She said sarcastically. I raised my eyebrows at her, but she seemed to upset to care.

"K," I answered, getting up and dropping my gun in her lap. She was gonna need more than one if any of the walker's I'd seen the night before came along.

Walking down, I felt my pockets for my knives and extra guns just to be sure I had some left. Carl was still in the house with Lori, but going alone in the woods wasn't too dangerous during the day.

"Daryl?" I called, walking past the trees and looking down at the leaves for his tracks.

Alas, there were none and by the time I came out from the woods, something else entirely was waiting for me.

Getting back, I saw Glenn organizing supplies and putting cans away with medicine. Before I could speak, we all heard horses screeching and neighing, almost screaming.

All of us ran infront of the RV, seeing something we'd never expect.

A horse, bigger than any of those we had was running, fast too. He was white, covered in black spots and heavy fur on his legs and back. He had no saddle or reins, just a rope around his neck and a rider with a bow around her chest and a quiver on her back.

The horse galloped on the tree line and as everyone gathered their guns, we spotted Daryl on Nelly's back, running after her, crossbow in hand.

"Get the other horses!" I called.

As Glenn and Andrea ran to the stables, I saw the newcomer and her horse run toward the RV, her bow in her hands and an arrow against the string.

"MOVE!" She yelled, a heavy accent in her voice.

Her arrow was pointed at Daryl, but she wasn't aiming for him or Nelly. As she released it, the arrow stabbed through a rope, letting all our supplies fall from the safety of the net and crumble down onto the ground.

Nelly got scared and threw Daryl off as she ran off into the stables again.

"Damn!" Daryl groaned, getting up with fustration.

"Who is she?" I asked him as he lifted his crossbow.

"Don't know, and I don't care. Bitch's horse tried to kill me." He said, but as I saw her turning around, her horse started galloping towards us and Daryk's crossbow lifted.

"Don't!" I told him.

He didn't listen, his arrow shot, and like slow motion, the horse kept running, but the girl jumped off, rolling down onto the ground and dodging the arrow. She pointed her arrow at Daryl again, but ceased to fire. Instead, her horse just kept running towards us, jumping over the fallen supplies and past Daryl's angry crossbow.

"Damn," I said, watching the horse speed by and run into the woods.

Daryl turned around and tried shooting at it again, but before he could, the girl came back and elbowed him in the back. He yelled in pain. I tried to come to his aid. Everyone did, but the girl tripped him, putting her foot on his chest as she pointed another one of her arrows at his head.

"You shoot my horse and I'll kill him." She threatened, her teeth bared and her accent heavy. She wasn't from america, maybe france or russia. Maybe Spain even.

"We- we ain't doin anythin to your horse miss. Just please get off my friend." I said, throwing my gun on the ground. Daryl didn't move, but i saw his teeth grinding in anger. Getting beat by a girl wasn't going to be his favorite memory. Especially one skinny as this one.

She was skinny, hungry looking, with brown eyes and dark blonde hair. She cursed in her language, taking her foot off and taking her arrow down from the bow's hold.

"You try and hurt me or my horse again and I'll shove your crossbow somewhere you'll never be able to shoot again. Got it?" She told Daryl.

"Bitch! The second I get my hands on you, you'll wish that horse of yours never even existed." She snorted and smirked at him with cocky eyes.

"Is that so?" She said, walking towards him. I picked up my gun just for safe measure. Before Daryl could get his crossbow, she punched him in the stomach and tripped him again, walking away and kicking his crossbow over.

"Dumbass," She mumbled, walking away and whistling loudly. Her horse came running back within seconds. He neighed to her, stopping a few hundered feet from where Daryl stood.

"Vient Barock. Ils vont pas te faire mal cherie." She called to him in her native toungue.

"The hell?" Daryl said as he saw her horse protesting, bagging his hooves on the ground and staring at Daryl with hateful eyes.

"Tu m'enerve parfoit. Tu sais quand je doit marché deux cent metres pour venir te cherché c'est un peux enuyant. T'es fraiment chant comme cheval. Tu peut pas marché un peu plus près quand je tappelle connard." She told him, running over as he refused to go any further.

"Shouldn't we stop her." Glenn asked, running over with another horse in hand.

I shook my head, wondering who she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty years old and she showed no interest in the farm or any of us. She really just wanted to keep her horse and herself safe. What she was doing in Georgia when she was from another country was a more pressing question I had in mine.

"Where'd you find her?" Glenn asked.

"Her horse pushed me over in the woods and when I tried getting him, he toyed with me, bitting and nipping at ma hair. When I hit him, that punk ass bitch yelled at me in some kind of immigrant language and punched me in the face. When I tried reasoning with her, she jumped up on her horse and told me to go to hell. So when her horse pushed me down I chased him with Nelly." He explained.

"Was it just her and the horse?" Hershel asked, coming up with Nelly all calmed down.

"Yeah. Weird if you ask me. What could a foreign girl like her be doing in georgia all by herself?" Glenn asked araising more and more questions in my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

_Girl's POV_

Barock was my horse. I found him as a babe with his legs broken and his mother dead beside him. I was in New York at the time, away from my country and just starting to learn English six years before.

Unable to leave him stranded there, I took him home, mended his wounds, and nursed him back to health.

Six years past and the world turned to hell. Walkers were everywhere and by the time I landed in Atlanta, they were everywhere, killing by the thousands and turning the dead back into living. Only they weren't really living anymore.

Barock was all I had left and when that American holding a crossbow hit him, I wanted to shoot my arrows into his heart.

He was fine now, only a bruise left on his chest showing past his white fur black spots.

"Americans," I said coldly, feeling his bruise to make sure it wasn't too bad. Barock was never a gentle horse. He was rowdy, loud, mischevious, and spirited like any teenager, but he was also annoying a trait which didn't win him any likes from our group.

"Louana!" Reagan called, her Sudane accent heavy as she came in on her horse. Her long dreadlocks bounced as she camed in from the hill landing by some trees as she got off her silver mare.

"Where have you ban? We have been lookang for you all over for you!" She said, looking me up and down for any bites or injuries. Bane came out from behind, his bay stallion clumsily stepping down the hill.

"I got into some trouble with some Americans at a farm a mile west of here. Some dumbass with a crossbow." I told them, Bane stepping dawn and pulling out his gun for safe measure. He was american unlike Reagan and I, but he was no redneck. He was from New York like me, almost a doctor before the walkers starting being everywhere.

"Want me to take care of them?" He asked.

"Please. If Louana couldn't handle them you sure as hell cannot." Reagan said as the rest of our group arrived. There were eight of us, a group mostly made up of foreigners and a few americans. We'd been together for over a year and never had we left each other's side.

"They aren't a threat." I told them.

"Barock just aggravated one is all."

"Barock is the fasest and strongest gelding we have." Bane said.

"If someone tried to hurt him we should threaten them back." Someone suggested. I shook my head, but as night began falling, we set up a fire and the discussion was far from over.

"Here's what we are going to do." Reagan started. Since she was our leader, she was the one who made all the final descisions.

"We ride up on our horses- no guns and Louana no bow. We keep those hidden. No weapons show. We challenged their leader, say we want to talk. Once they agree, we get off the horses. If they don't agree, we persuade them."

Raegan continued explaining the plan and with every other turning point, I became more and more intrigued.


End file.
